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“Cast off the chains of oppression!” I cried, waving my arms expansively toward the crowd. “How can you look at yourselves and see anything but slave holders?”

I’d given this speech yesterday and the day before and the day before in different towns and the faces looked much the same. Most were confused, some were angry, and others… others wore expressions of guilt. The words wore on them. Words, of course, would come first. Where words failed, action would win. But for now… for now it was about the words.

“The time has come,” I declared solemnly, hoping to work the crowd into a frenzy, “for Pokemon liberation!”

“Geesh, what a nutbar,” a voice said from the crowd, completely destroying the dramatic atmosphere that I had been building.

I searched for the source of the rude voice and found it in the form of a young girl. I gave her a careful looking over, from her shoes and all the way up into a striking pair of eyes made all the more piercing by their contrast with her red hair that looked at me with a mixture of disgust and disdain.

I eyed her once more. “I can tell that,” I said quietly. In a more audible voice I added, “Don’t you think your Pokemon crave that freedom that you so enjoy?”

“My Pokemon know better than to listen to some whackjob who probably has some kind of sleazy ulterior motive,” she countered, leaning forward with her arms crossed.

Disquiet slithered through my mind. I had to tread carefully. After all, this was just a girl—the crowd wouldn’t take her seriously if I managed my reaction.

I gave her a pious look. “My motives are completely pure,” I assured her.

She gave a very unladylike snort. “Yeah, right,” she said, before turning to leave.

“You guys can listen to this weirdo if you want,” she announced, walking the other way, “but I’m leaving before he starts passing around poisoned Kool-Aid or something.”

I watched her as she disappeared into the distance with a frown. Someone like her in a crowd is… troublesome. It makes the people less pliable, less naďve. It had surely muddled my attempts at persuasion. It would be better not to meet such a person again.

…But still, I couldn’t quite regret the encounter. Perhaps it was because she was so… bold. Yes, there was just something about her.

“Liberated, are you?” I said very quietly. “Well, you enjoy that freedom… who knows how long you may have it?”